‘Is this you telling me it’s either truce or consequences?’ The hand was still there as he turned away, digging a tissue from his pocket and tearing it into clumps, which he shoved into either nostril. ‘Worth it, though, all the same,’ he told himself, wiggling his nose a little. It wasn’t broken, which counted as a bonus under the circumstances. Chris Agnew had told him he’d been close mates with Francis Haggard, but Driscoll seemed to think otherwise. Rebus thought of Agnew’s reputation and nickname – the Swordsman. Maybe he’d tried turning on the charm for Haggard’s other half. Either that or there was some other reason for their enmity – always supposing Driscoll had been telling the truth. Had Agnew denied it? He had not, though Driscoll himself had called it a joke.

If so, no one had been left laughing.

Clarke met Gina Hendry at a wine bar on George Street. The ­liaison officer already had the dregs of one cocktail in front of her and was being served another as Clarke arrived.

‘As bad as that?’ Clarke said, ordering a G and T from the waiter.

‘Just felt like it,’ Hendry explained. ‘I’ve spent most of the afternoon with Cheryl and Stephanie.’

‘Cheryl’s still at her sister’s?’ Clarke shrugged off her coat and got comfortable.

‘Can’t bring herself to go back to her flat. She says the break-in just adds insult to injury. Meantime there’s a funeral to arrange.’

‘Though we won’t be releasing the body just yet.’

Hendry nodded. ‘I made sure she knows. Then I broke the news that my role was done and dusted.’

‘How did she take it?’

‘She said she’d miss me. Stephanie tried to press a bottle of wine on me.’ She peered at Clarke above the rim of her glass. ‘Anyway, how’s your day been?’

‘Lots of interviews with the deceased’s erstwhile colleagues. I don’t suppose any of them have offered condolences?’

‘There was a wreath left at the gates – I took it in with me. Card was from someone called Rob. Stephanie screwed it up and tossed it in the bin.’

‘Rob Driscoll,’ Clarke stated.

‘Tynecastle, right?’

‘Did the wreath go the same way?’

‘How did you guess? Can I assume you’re treating all those colleagues as suspects? Stephanie seems to have made up her mind that it has to be one of them.’

‘We’re ruling nothing in and nothing out.’

‘This isn’t a journalist you’re talking to, Siobhan.’

Clarke’s drink arrived. She thanked the waiter and stirred the wedge of lemon around the glass. ‘Constitution Street wasn’t a break-in,’ she said. ‘Nothing taken. Probably someone he knew and trusted.’ She concentrated on her drink for a moment. ‘Cheryl’s never mentioned drug use to you?’

‘Hers or his?’

‘Either.’

‘I got the feeling alcohol was their fuel of choice. Did he dabble?’

‘He definitely dabbled.’